“It sounds like you’ve got a dossier on him.”
“It’s all up here.” Ellis tapped his temple with a forefinger. “That way, no one can break in and shut down my operation.”
“And what an operation it is.”
Ellis gave me a sour look. “I’ve heard all about your smart mouth. I also heard you pistol-whipped Martin Sklar when you broke up with him.”
I tried to look bemused. “Now, where would I get a pistol from?”
“If you were a corporation, I’d move heaven and earth to find out. But since you’re just a travel writer, I’ll keep on being curious.”
“Just a travel writer? Wow. You must’ve been a real peach for Skye to work with,” I said.
“What is it you want, anyway?”
“I’m interested in Skye’s story, because someone needs to write it.”
Ellis let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know you hated your ex so much.”
“I don’t mean a piece about Martin. I mean an article about the money-laundering and whatever Pantheon has been up to.”
“What do you need?”
“Skye knew something was wrong with a few of the properties in Eastern Europe. Did she tell you what?”
“Yeah. They don’t exist.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do I need to draw you a picture?” Ellis asked. “They’re money-laundering pits, just like Mexico, but the guy running them is cunning enough to skim so much of the profits that it isn’t obvious. Dig?”
“Got it. Why did Skye call you on Friday night?”
“She told me she was with you in Acapulco. She said she thought you might have some information about when Sklar started laundering money, and which properties were involved, and she wanted my okay to bring you in. I told her I thought that was a crap idea, because you’d probably go running to Sklar about the story, but she said you wouldn’t.”
“She was right,” I said. “What else did she say?”
“She found another source,” Ellis said. “But she mentioned that the source’s info might be a little out of date.”
“So, maybe someone who used to work for Pantheon?” Like Denny, I thought.
“Could be.”
“Was there anything else? Anything at all?”
“Just that she was going to stick close to you all weekend because she knew you were in danger,” Ellis said.
That made my heart ache. I hoped Ellis couldn’t see how those words affected me. If I cried in his office, that would be filed away for reference, no doubt.
CHAPTER 54
It took more nerve than I thought I had to step inside Martin’s apartment building again. The last time I’d visited was just after I’d found out my sister was dead, and I pieced together the lies Martin had told me about her. He wasn’t responsible for what happened to Claudia, but he’d made my search for her more difficult and, if anything, more painful. But the memory that haunted me was how Martin had made me lose control. I’d struck him across the face several times, knocking out teeth. At the time, I felt justified in my rage, but time had only made me see myself as a fool.
Whatever I’d done, Martin’s standing instructions to let me come upstairs were still in effect. The doorman greeted me and sent me upstairs, though he rushed for the phone before my back was turned. I could only imagine what he was saying.
Ridley, Martin’s son, had the apartment door open and was waiting for me. He was even taller and broader than when I’d last seen him, and he still had trouble making eye contact. But he gave me a big hug. “Hi, Lily. You smell nice.”
“Thanks, Ridley. Have any football teams tried to recruit you yet?”
He made an odd sound, as if he were clearing his throat, but I knew him well enough to know that was how he laughed.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s resting right now. It might be a while before he’s up. There’s a nurse here, too.”
A solidly-built woman with her hair in dreadlocks came into the room. “That’s my cue,” she said. “I’m Anne. I already know you’re Lily. Martin talks about you all the time. Anyhow, I would’ve recognized you from the photos he’s got.”
“He still has those up?”
“See for yourself,” she said.
As I walked in, I saw that she was right. There were pictures of me, and of Martin and me together, and of us with Ridley, looking vaguely like family. If anything, Martin had more pictures up than when we were actually a couple. Looking at one of them, I realized that it wasn’t my imagination that Martin’s appearance had changed so dramatically. In a few months, he’d aged rapidly and dropped a shocking amount of weight. The gaunt man I’d seen in Mexico was a shadow of the Martin I’d known.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“It’s bad,” Ridley said. “He should never have had—”
“Hush, your papa’s a private man.”
“He’s secretive about everything.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Anne said. “I had to sign so many confidentiality agreements when I started working here, I think he could put my ass in jail for telling you.”
“I probably could,” Martin said, standing in a doorway and leaning on the frame. He was wearing a pair of monogrammed pajamas he might have swiped from Cary Grant in Indiscreet. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“I guess I can’t threaten you for calling me that while I’m standing in your home, can I?”
“It would be a little bit rude.”
I moved closer to him, but stopped short of actually touching him. This was a stage of our relationship I’d never envisioned. Should I kiss his cheek or hug him? A handshake would only be sad. I looked at him, knowing he was thinking the same thing.
“Ridley, would you mind going for a walk with Anne?”
“Okay, Dad. You want me to pick anything up for you?”
“Thanks, son, but no.”
“You probably need a new book to read,” Ridley said. “I’m going to get you one.”
“That sounds good.”
Ridley hugged his father, which was something I’d never seen before. Over the years I’d known them, Martin tried to hug his son but Ridley usually pulled away. I knew he had a lot of issues with his father, but there was something incredibly sweet seeing them together now.
After Ridley and Anne went out, Martin and I stared at each other silently. There was so much between us, some of it good and some horrible. “How sick are you?” I asked finally.
“Sick enough that it’s incredibly boring to talk about.” He made his way to the sofa and sat down. He sighed. “I’m a bad host. I should’ve asked if you wanted something to drink before they went out.”
“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Is that what you came here to talk about, Lily, or is there something else on your mind?”
“There’s a lot that’s on my mind.” I sat in a chair across from him. “Starting with why you would want to kill Skye.”
CHAPTER 55
Martin didn’t answer that. Instead, he leaned back so that his head rested against the top of the sofa.
“Martin, I know about the fraud. The money laundering.”
“You think I had Skye killed because of that?” Martin looked at me again. “That’s insulting, Lily. I didn’t kill her.”
“You could have had someone do it.”
He sighed. “If you believe that about me, I may as well end it all right now.” He lifted his head. “Do you?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, that’s something.” He settled back against the sofa and sighed. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the skin over the bridge of his nose. “Ask me anything.”
“You knew about the money laundering?”
“Not until recently. But I knew Gavin was making the company a fortune, and I didn’t bother to stop and think about how. If I’d looked, I would have seen that the Mexican division made boatloads of cash because it wasn’
t in the hotel business. It was in the money-laundering business. It was inspired of Gavin, in a way. Think of it. No money spent on wooing visitors, or catering to guests. No people to worry about at all. Just a skeleton staff to maintain the property, and a big pile of money into the coffers on a regular basis.”
“You’re saying the money-laundering business was Gavin’s? Was no other Pantheon hotel involved?”
“No.”
“What about the hotels in Eastern Europe. Are all of those above board?”
“Yes.” His voice quavered, just a little. “I think.”
“You don’t know.”
“I don’t keep moles at Josef’s properties.”
“You have spies at your hotels?”
“Of course. How do you think I’m able to run things with such a tight rein?” He gave me a full-wattage smile that, in healthier days, would have made him look like Tyrone Power; now, it only highlighted how weak he’d become.
“That’s horrible. Also, brilliant,” I admitted. “Except that you need some more Eastern European spies.”
“I’m not in the running for any Person of the Year awards,” Martin answered. “I just know how to run great hotels. Or I did.”
“Before you got sick.” My voice was quiet. “I know you have cancer. Will you talk about it, please?”
He smiled again, more gently. “I always wondered if I might drop dead suddenly of a heart attack, like my father did when he was fifty-three. But cancer found me first. Only, it’s not the real problem anymore.”
I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t keep my composure so I jumped up and walked quickly to the window. Staring down at Central Park, I struggled to keep my breathing steady.
“What does that mean?” I asked him, wiping my eyes.
“It started out as lung cancer.”
I turned to face him. “But you don’t smoke. You never did.”
“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but any doctor will tell you, there are a lot of people who never smoked with lung cancer these days. It’s not just me.”
“Is it because of second-hand smoke?” I stared at Martin, languid on the couch. I’d walked in, intent on making him confess that he’d committed murder; instead, I was thinking about how I was going to be responsible for his death.
“Lily, please come here.”
I was rooted to the spot, and when I opened my mouth to answer, nothing came out.
“I would come over there, but I can’t.” His voice broke as he said that last word. “Please.”
My feet moved me toward him, and I sat on the sofa beside him, moving gingerly in case I made things worse.
“Lily, you know that saying, ‘It is what it is’?”
“That’s a stupid saying.”
“But kind of true. This isn’t about secondhand smoke, or about all the time I’ve spent checking out construction sites, or the time I’ve spent in polluted cities. It just is.”
We sat for a long time like that, gazing at each other. It was hard to reconcile the life I’d once imagined having with him with where we’d landed instead.
“And when you said that wasn’t the problem anymore… the cancer spread?”
“I kicked cancer’s ass,” Martin said. “What happened was my doctors didn’t realize I never should have had chemotherapy. Have you ever heard of a disorder called Charcot-Marie-Tooth?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a hereditary disorder, but a lot of people who have it don’t know it. It affects the nerves, especially in the feet and legs, hands and arms. It’s kind of a bastard, because it erodes muscle tissue and kills touch sensation, while leaving you with all of your pain receptors intact.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“People who have it are not able to have chemo, but no one knew I had it. It’s almost impossible for me to walk a block now without falling down, unless I’m wearing metal braces on my legs. I still have most of the function in my hands, but the doctors say I’ll lose that soon.”
It was too awful to take in. Waves of emotion beat against my chest, and my eyes were watery. Martin stroked my hand.
“How can you run the company anymore?” I asked. “Why don’t you quit and focus on your health? Just keeping up the pretense that you’re working on hotel business must be exhausting.”
“I’m down, but I’m not out. I’m tougher than you think.”
“The story about the money laundering is going to come out, you know.”
“I know. Sooner or later.”
“Sooner, because I’m going to write it.”
He swallowed hard. “Is this your way of getting even with me?”
“No. I’m well past that point.” I curled my fingers around his. “It’s my way of giving some kind of meaning to Skye’s death. She’s the one who uncovered it.”
“I suppose you’d like some hard evidence to do with that theory. Would you mind getting my laptop for me?”
I went into his bedroom to retrieve it; I stared at the large photograph he had of me on the wall, and the smaller ones on the night table and dresser. It made me think of Ryan’s shrine to Skye, and that made me sad. It was as if both he and Martin were frozen in time, refusing to move ahead, denying a new course needed to be chartered.
When I came back, Martin told me what files to delve into, then said, “You do the scrolling. I need a nap.”
“You can go to sleep, if you like.”
“Did Ridley mention I now sleep sixteen hours a day? That makes me a sloth. But I’d rather stay awake and watch you. Unless you want to nap with me.”
“Is that your best offer?”
“A few of my nerve endings are still in working order, sweetheart.”
I did my best to look affronted, then turned my attention to the files.
“Martin, why did Denny leave Pantheon?”
“She was passed over for a promotion. She ended up trying to sneakily undermine her boss. She would be very sweet to this woman she hated, then tell everyone else terrible things about her. She loved to talk about the woman as a manipulator, but it was really Denny who was masterful at playing all sides.”
A wide swath of goosebumps, running from my tailbone to the nape of my neck, lit up. “Denny kept telling me how manipulative Skye was.”
“Really? What would she gain by doing that?”
“It was in the context of Skye’s relationships with men, and how she mistreated them.”
“Why would Denny care?”
“I don’t know. It was mostly about Ryan, Skye’s ex-boyfriend.” What had Denny told me? Sorry, just thinking about their psychotic relationship ties my muscles up in knots. I’m supposed to be her friend, but I feel terrible for Ryan. He’s a really good guy. He deserves better. “Denny kept talking about how Skye used him and abused him.”
I tried to remember the first time his name had come up with Denny. I think the person who gets it worst is Ryan. He’s such a sucker for her. She breaks up with him, sleeps with strings of guys, tells him all about it, then asks him for money. And he gives it to her.
“Denny wasn’t lying, though. Skye was giving Gavin a marriage ultimatum while talking baby names with Ryan.” I stopped and thought about it. Ryan. Denny was always talking about Ryan.
“Could Denny have been jealous of Skye in some way?”
“Skye was stuck on Gavin. What would there be to get jealous about? And anyway, Denny and Skye were close friends.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, Denny mentioned it. A few times.”
“Do you have anyone’s word for that but Denny’s?” Martin asked.
“Skye’s ex, Ryan. He mentioned that they were friends.” I remembered him saying Denny was a good friend. That made it sound as if she were his friend, rather than Skye’s.
“When did he say that?”
“Jesse and I were over at his apartment on Sunday night when Denny called him.”
“She called him? To tell him about Skye?�
�
“I think she wanted to come over to his apartment.”
Martin laughed. “Oh, Lily, this is ironic. I can’t accept the truth about Josef, and you can’t about Denny.”
“Hold on. It sounds like your opinion of Josef has altered a bit. What changed your mind?”
“I keep thinking about Gregory Robinson. I never told Gavin what I did. I never told anyone. You know, and Ridley does. Neither of you would tell Gavin a thing. I started to think about who it was who first put me onto Gregory.” Martin sighed. “And that was Josef.”
“Was that part of his fatherly advice?”
“I’m ashamed to say it was. My father never did business like that. He was a very tough man, but honorable.” Martin closed his eyes, as if he were about to drift off, but he kept talking. “We were never close. I don’t know why. He was a hard person to get close to.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Maybe.” He was silent for a moment. “Josef was the opposite. So warm. So easy to talk to. He knew how the world really worked. He wanted to help me.”
When I’d been trapped at the Hotel Cerón, I’d believed Denny wanted to help me. She’d argued with Gavin about having me see a doctor; she’d been worried about what Gavin would do to me, and she tried to protect me. I’d known her for a long time, and I knew her to be thoughtful and generous. That made me so reluctant to be objective about her now. “The worst part is that they seem so kind,” I said.
“We’re both willfully blind, Lily. We want to believe we know them. We think we know the truth about them, but we don’t. We’re just comfortable with our illusions.”
He was right, but when I opened my mouth to say so, it was hard to breathe. Ryan keeps bailing her out of things. She knows he’ll always catch her, no matter how far she falls. Means, motive, opportunity. Denny had them all.
CHAPTER 56
Denny wouldn’t meet with me; I couldn’t even get her to answer my calls. There could be a good reason for it, I told myself. Maybe Josef Dietrich’s henchmen were after her, too. It didn’t take me long to be disabused of that idea. Martin’s people found Gavin’s correspondence with Josef; Gavin had been the one to sound the alarm about me, but he didn’t mention Denny. What shocked me was the timing: Gavin sent the message on Saturday evening, just after he’d taken away my laptop and Skye’s guidebooks; Frakker’s Eastern Europe had been a solid clue after all. Gavin didn’t say what to do with me; he only provided my address in Barcelona and Jesse’s in New York, as well as a list of known associates and haunts.
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